Carving of the Kanji
by GlazingSilverWing
Summary: Gaara is transferred to Kohona High Boarding School and is rather having trouble keeping his life in Suna a secret. He pushes his new friends away, but he can't hold on to his secert forever. Multiple pairings inside. ON HIATUS.


A/N: Hanabi: 13 (not her **_real _**age, but, it's needed for the fanfic), The Rookie Nine and Gaara: 15 Kankuro, Kin, Dosu, Zaku: 17 Temari: 18. I don't know where I got this idea, wait, yeah, I did, from reading a LOT of high school fanfics, reading to much of those is bad. Don't know where I got the title...

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Couples: Gaara x Hinata, Naruto x Sakura, Kiba x Ino, Shikamaru x Temari, Neji x Tenten, and, just for a little amusement, Sasuke x Hanabi (maybe, haven't decided yet.)

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Chapter One: Carving of the Kanji

He gasped, raising his hand up to grip something, but only thin air slipped through his fingers. He jerked forward, eyes wide, chest rising rapidly as he sucked in air, sweat dripping down his forehead. _That damn dream again_, he thought, swallowing a large amount of saliva, hurting his esophagus as it slid inside his throat. He flopped back down onto the mattress below him, closing his eyes, but immediately snapped them open. _I hate it_, he thought as he turned to his side, buckling his legs to his chest, staring into the darkness of his room.

Sabaku no Gaara could always remember the darkness enclosed around him. Even as a baby, he could remember the darkness creeping everywhere. But instead of growing a fear of the darkness like most children, he caressed it, holding it close to his chest until it had melted into the beating organ. At the age three, the darkness began biting and eating at it, tearing it apart little by little. He didn't really mind, to him, it felt natural, pleasant, but had a rather sad effect.

He closed his eyes; the lids black with the little sleep received from his whole life. With the encounter of the night's darkness, he'd stay up constantly to watch it prance in his room. He'd rather not sleep anyways; fear of the dream that haunted his mind's eye.

"Gaara, walk up, your going to be late for school!" shouted a voice.

Gaara mumbled under his breath. "I know Yashamaru. I can tell time." He got up, walking towards the bathroom and shutting it with a loud slam.

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"Why are you wearing that?" a man with sandy yellow hair said in question as he watched his nephew climb into the seat next to him. Gaara strapped on his seat belt, knowing if he didn't, he'd be lectured by his uncle, Yashamaru.

"…" He didn't reply.

Yashamaru scanned his nephew again. Gaara was wearing black pants, a black belt slinging loosely from his hip to the bottom of the other hip. He wore the same thing on the other hip, only, the belt was a little longer that the one over it. He wore a red, ruffled button-up shirt, a black jacket with its zipper unzipped over it, the sleeve slightly loose. His ear was pierced, a lock of red hair moved behind his ear to reveal the piercing. On the upper ridge of the ear, three black rings were lined. At the earlobe, two black small balls were placed. The other ear, a bang covered it from eyes view.

"You're going to wear that on the first day of school?" he asked, frowning deeply at his nephew.

"It's not like I haven't worn this to school…this day will make no difference," Gaara replied flatly.

"Yes, but that was on other days, not the _first_ day of school. And it's your first day in _high school_, people are going to give you the wrong impression," Yashamaru said as he drove out of the driveway.

"No. Their impression of me will be right. Messed up and screwed. Either way, I don't really care a damn," muttered the redhead.

"Watch your language," Yashamaru said roughly. Gaara was silent. He grunted a 'whatever' and stared out the window, seeing only pavement and endless sand. _Sad_, he thought. Now that summer was over, he wouldn't feel the sand that ran around his house under his feet, warming the soles of his feet until they turned pink and red. He sighed. At least he had a little sand with him.

He clutched a pendent that hung from a black thread, clinging to his neck. The thread wrapped twice around his neck, then, the string would hang loosely. The pendent was made of clear glass, the top having a small cap that was removed with a short series of spins. The molded glass was the shape of a cone, but the end was twisted, turning right and looking much like a spun wire. The pendent contained little of the sand from his home now and from his mother, mixed with her own blood.  
_  
__Sand is like timeless love. It never ends_, Yashamaru had said to Gaara once. That was why he kept it close. He knew that although his mother was not there to give him the emotion no one gave him, at least her love would still be in the sand, endlessly flowing, or, that's what he was thinking.

He sighed, letting go of the pendent. It was silly to believe that his mother's love was kept inside the sand that mixed with her blood. His mother hated him, his father had said that she had cursed him when he was born, never wanting to have him. _Of course she didn't_, he thought. _I'm only a result of a rape_. Yes, it was true, his mother was raped and pregnant with him after words, but he didn't like to think who had raped her. He never bothered to learn anyways.

What was the point in bringing up the past? He had asked his father what had happen, but only was smacked and beaten almost to death. He knew, from what he had heard, was that his mother wanted to do an abortion, but, the Sabaku family had no money for such a thing at the time.

After that, his father had sent his two older siblings away to move with their aunt in Kohona. He said he would deal with the youngest. Gaara was three then.

After sometime, after three years of beating, Gaara had been sent to live with his uncle, Yashamaru after the "accident." He had been living with his uncle ever since.

"Do you miss Sister," Gaara heard his uncle's voice question.

"No…," he said flatly.

"You know, she loved you," Yashamaru said.

"No, she hated me. And I'll deal with it."

"…She didn't. She loved you…Deal with that emotion," his uncle said, his voice suddenly cold.

"Feh. I don't think you can actual call it an emotion," Gaara said, sinking into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. "I say it's a burden to love…the feeling is unnecessary to be given or give. It's a wasteful emotion," Gaara grumbled.

Yashamaru turned his head towards his nephew. "How the hell can you say that!? I love you; you think that it is a burden? What the hell is your problem!?"

"Uncle, your love is a bunch of crap. You don't love me. You said it yourself in front of me when I was seven. I know you lied. You hate me like everyone else. You blame me for _her_ death," Gaara said in monotone, his voice never raising a note.

"I wonder if you're even human," his uncle began. "You think love is a pot of crap!? You're insane, Gaara!" His uncle looked at him hard, slightly considering that his nephew was indeed a sadistic moron.

"I guess I am then," he said, closing his eyes and making a little gesture.

"You –," but before Yashamaru couldn't finish, a horn was honked, cutting him off. He looked forward, only, to realize a truck full of oil coming closer. He stepped on the breaks, but the trucker seemed to lose control of his vehicle.

The two cars smacked into each other and everything went blank for a moment.

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When Gaara opened his eyes, he found a cut on his cheek, bleeding. All around him stood blazing fire; a sound of a coming ambulance was twisted into the air. Gaara needed to find his uncle. He shifted, burning a little part of his hand. He didn't really care.

"Get out," came a rasping voice.

Gaara whipped his head behind him, seeing his uncle under metal, his body smashed underneath. "Y-Yashamaru?" Gaara hesitated to say.

"Gaara…get out…NOW!" screamed his uncle.

"No, I won't leave you," Gaara said, not believing his words.

Yashamaru swallowed hard. "You say I don't love you. That is true. No one did. You are alone. Love shall never be whispering around you. You are a result of a rape, a child that is the vessel of a demon of lust and vain power. You are right. Who could ever love a demon?" Yashamaru asked, smiling wryly up at his nephew, blood dripping down the corners of his mouth. He smiled more at Gaara's reaction.

Although, Gaara knew he wasn't meant to be loved or anything, it still hurt to be told. He grimaced slightly in emotional pain He felt a hand grip his and pull him forward. The next thing he knew, he was at eye level with his uncle, staring into the deep eyes of blue, surrounded with black. They were dull; the life that they held was fating away.

Yashamaru pulled out a pocket knife with his free arm, snapping the blade into its place with his mouth. He gripped Gaara's hand tightly, making sure that he couldn't go anywhere. "Hold still. I never gave you my gift. The gift of rejected love." He moved the knife to the pale skin of the forehead, picking the left corner of the brow. "This might hurt a little." The blade cut through the flesh with ease, forming a single Japanese word. A "kanji," saying the one word of emotion that he, Sabaku no Gaara, could never receive.

Gaara felt pain on his forehead, blood running over his left eye. The fumes from the flames mixed with the air he was exhaling. He coughed. He shut his eyes, the gas floating in the air piercing his aqua-green orbs. He dropped his head as he felt his uncle's hand retreat with the knife, the blade now covered in pale flesh and smeared with blood.

Gaara closed his eyes, slipping away from the conciseness world. Before his mind went blank, he saw his uncle's face. He looked so happy.

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_A boy with blood-smeared red hair and aqua-green eyes ran down the hall, tripping over his feet. The hall had little light, lit only from dull lighted candles. He got up quickly, looking over his shoulder if anyone was coming. A shadow loomed at the other side of the hall, gloomily walking towards him. _

_"No! I-I don't want it!" the boy screamed, running, tears springing from his eyes. 'I don't want another beating!' he thought as he ran into a room and locked the door quickly. He backed away, his shoulders shaking. _

_What had he had done wrong? He didn't do anything. He was just an innocent child, or, so that's what everybody said a child is. He slowly walked backwards away from the door, his back bumping into something hard, but warm. _

_He stood still, shaking as he turned around. "NO!" he shouted and ran. A big hand grabbed his shoulder roughly, holding him still. The hand's owner raised the other hand, a silver blade gleaming from the moon's beams that shone into the room. He turned the boy around, beginning to slam the blade into the boys flesh… _

Gaara woke up with a jerk, finding himself in cold sweat, breath slightly tethering. He shivered, clutching his upper arms with the opposite hand. His bangs moved over his eyes, the aqua-green orbs hidden behind red. He noticed that the left corner of his forehand was covered with a square bandage. His had-been cut cheek was covered in the same material. He peeled off the square bandage on his forehead, revealing the kanji his uncle had given him. He traced it with a pale finger, realizing the carved word. He left the one on his cheek, not bothering to remove the bandage.

He heard the door of the room he was in open and shut with a silent slam. "Morning."

He turned his head towards the voice, seeing a young girl of the age of eighteen, wearing a white dress and holding a clip board. "Here," she said, shoving clothes into his hands. He recognized them. They were his. He didn't dare look under the covers. "Hurry up," the girl said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Can you get out?" Gaara asked roughly. The girl rolled her eyes and left, coming back in after Gaara had finished putting his clothes.

The girl blushed. He sure looked different when he wasn't wearing the hospital's white clothing. "Umm…May I ask you a question?"

"Yeah…?" Gaara said, slipping his hands in his pocket and leaning on the frame of an open window.

"Why do you have scars and slashes on your chest, that's not exactly normal…"

Gaara glared at the girl, and then turned to look out the window, feeling a gentle breeze. "That's my business and not yours. That the only question? Good," he said, walking towards the door.

"Um…wait! A doctor wanted me to give you this," the girl said, still blushing lightly.

Gaara pulled a lock of his red hair out of his face and slipped it behind his ear. He took a piece of folded paper and scanned the written text.

_Sabaku no Gaara, _

_To keep you up-to-date, you have been unconscious for at least to days. I have gone through you records in Suna's government computer and found that you have no one to take you in that are really over 20. So, the government has decided to send you to Kohona High Boarding School where your older sister and brother are. Pack up your things; you're going to Kohona on a plane in two hours. _

--_ Okibi Kasai_

"Who the heck if Okibi Kasai…?" Gaara muttered, folding the paper up and slipping it inside his pocket.

"Um…I think he's an assistant for Suna's government," the girl said, rubbing her chin.

Gaara moved past her towards the door, grunting a thank you. He pulled out the piece of paper again as he walked down the cleaned white halls, frowning at it. _'So…I'm going to Kohona High Boarding School where my older siblings are. Temari and baka Kankuro…Hmm…Haven't seen them since I was three. This is going to get interesting…,'_ the redhead thought as he pushed the door of the front entrance.

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A/N: What do you think? I'm doing a new story because I'm haveing writer's block on "Sewn," "Daughter of the Sound, "To be called Weak (I've been really slaking off on that) and "To cry myself to Sleep (I've been really slaking)." /Sigh/ For now, I'll work on this.../Sighs/ 


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